


The Watchers - Part 1

by JaredIsGray



Series: The Watchers [1]
Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Intrigue, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Pak'Ma'Ra, Rangers, Shadow Agent, Techno-Mage, bunny slippers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaredIsGray/pseuds/JaredIsGray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vera just graduated from the first group of human Rangers ever trained. Using her old crew of independent xenoarcheologists as cover, she’s eager to do her part in the fight against the Shadows. But when she crosses paths with a Shadow Agent during her first mission, following his trail lures her into a complicated web of powerful beings all trying to use each other for their own ends. Will she discover their plans in time to warn the Rangers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All canon outside the show is based on the source books for the Babylon 5 RPG. Technically AU because Burell the techno-mage survives for longer than in the books. Otherwise, the story follows existing canon.

Nathan once believed working with the Shadows had made him immune to being unnerved. Then he met Mr. Book.

He repeated the mantra of the Shadows to himself as he stepped out of Mr. Book’s frigid, dark office into the warm, bright corridor. _Chaos through warfare. Evolution through bloodshed. Perfection through victory._

It didn’t help. The door closed behind Nathan, and he heard the lock click. Trying to warm himself, he rubbed the sleeves of his expensive silk business suit. At least his breath wasn’t frosting anymore.

Nathan seemed to address the empty air, “He gives me the creeps. He looked at me more like a bug he was going to dissect than a person. You can be harsh masters, but what you do has purpose. You harm for a cause, a reason. He seemed more like he'd take me apart just because he could, just so he could see what color I was on the inside.” He was babbling, and he knew it. He needed to get a grip on himself. Weakness was death.

The familiar surge of terror and ecstasy struck him as the Shadow’s answer buzzed in his mind. _Feelings are irrelevant. It offers to aid us against the hated enemy. Its plan is sound, and there is no risk to the cause. You will assist it._

“It? What do you mean, ‘It’?”

No answer was forthcoming. Nathan knew better than to push the issue. He hurried his way back to the shuttle. The sooner he left this deceptively mundane place, the sooner his skin would stop crawling… he hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

_This is my grand contribution to saving the galaxy? A milk run?_ Vera gazed out at the chaotic, red expanse of hyperspace. Her thoughts reflected its restless, shifting layers. _They still don’t think I’m ready. Why’d they let me graduate if they don’t think I can handle a real mission?_

Intellectually, Vera understood the necessity of the mission. The data tap she had planted in the Dorac colony servers as part of her unintended ‘audition’ for the Rangers only contained a short-range transmitter. Somebody needed to go there to download its records. She was the only one who could do so without arousing suspicion from the paranoid colonists.

Her crew had first surveyed the planet as a potential xenoarcheology dig site. Instead, they stumbled across a rogue colony of Mars dissidents. In true Brakiri fashion, Sya Nassir, her former employer, insisted on finding a way to turn a profit from their excursion. He somehow managed to negotiate a supply contract with them despite their distrust of outsiders. The colonists would be expecting her ship to show up with those supplies.

The mission itself wasn’t the source of her frustration, though. What upset her was the mundane simplicity— fly out, get the data, come home. Bulk data collection from a routine trip to an uneventful backwater.

_I signed on to fight legends, and they have me running errands._ Vera sighed. _It will get better._ _It has to._

She tried to distract herself by trading one worry for another— checking the navigational sensors. This was her first time out without a more experienced pilot on board, and she lacked confidence in her skills. Sya had always done the flying in the past, and her training could only cover so much in a few short months. No one else on the remaining crew could do any better.

The ship still had a strong lock on the beacon signal. Everything looked good so far. She prayed it would stay that way.

*****

The journey from Minbar to the Beta 4 system took three days. When Vera’s ship came through the jumpgate, the comm system began picking up ISN and Universe Today relay broadcasts. Since they were still more than an hour away from the transfer station, she downloaded the feeds and used the time to catch up on everything she had missed during her six months of training.

Vera skimmed the headlines. “President dead… some claim assassinated… Narn at war with the Centauri… and they’ve already lost two colonies… Oh, and the Centauri Emperor kicked it while visiting B5. Shit, I leave for a few months and the universe goes to hell.”

She closed the feed and put in a docking request with the transfer station. They were going to be in the queue for almost half an hour. Business seemed to be booming for such a remote location. The war must have been pushing trade to the longer routes to avoid the front lines.

This could be to their advantage. It was much easier to maintain a low profile in a crowd of similar ships. Their civilian trader was the ox cart of the Earth Alliance merchant fleet. Thousands of independent pilots and traders operated nearly identical vessels in every part of the galaxy. No one could ask for better camouflage.

Beta Transfer Station looked like most every civilian trade station Vera had ever seen— a thin, rotating habitation torus wrapped around a much larger central docking structure. The torus provided gravity for sections containing worker housing, a handful of cramped hotels, and small market stalls dealing in whatever random, over-priced junk the locals could buy or steal from passing trade ships.

It had little to offer the crew, but the cargo transfer would take some time with the station so busy. In the two years they worked together as freelance xenoarchaeologists, the crew had learned to take every opportunity they could get to spend time in proper gravity. Their ship was too small to have any rotating sections, and the meager collection of exercise equipment set up in the cargo hold could only do so much to prevent muscle atrophy.

Vera reached over to activate the ship-wide comm. “Pit stop time, kids. Flowers, don’t forget to take Waldo for a walk, we don’t want him peeing on the carpet.”

“Careful,” Waldo’s voice drifted up the ladder well from the main deck below, “one of these days she’s going to take you seriously. The last thing I need is to be chased around by a Pak’Ma’Ra who wants to put a collar on me.”

“I don’t know. It might be just the thing to loosen up. Even for a guy who lives on a starship, you’re a shut-in.”

“Still not lonely enough to cuddle with a carrion-eater, thanks.” His head popped up through the hatch in the cockpit’s floor. Waldo Jakubowski had a nose an eagle could be proud of, and his curly, dark hair formed a frizzy halo about his head in the microgravity. “Besides, the way you people keep breaking shit on this ship, I don’t get _time_ to be a shut-in.”

Vera waved a dismissive hand without turning to look at him. “Yeah, yeah. Go make sure the cargo doors are clear. I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.”

*****

Like most transfer stations, the habitation areas were cramped, stuffy, and received just enough maintenance to keep the important systems running. The air handlers kept the atmosphere breathable, but did little to remove the musky smell of five hundred bodies all crammed together in the same space. It wasn’t quite squalor, but there was no comfort to be found, even for those who could afford it.

As soon as they entered the public areas through what passed for customs on the station, Flowers trundled off looking for the local Pak community. The milling crowd swerved around her. Nobody wanted to be within smelling distance of a Pak’Ma’Ra. Vera felt sorry for her as she watched the mottled gray head disappear from view. It had to be hard to so rarely be around your own kind. Even when their digs didn’t pan out, it could still be weeks between stops at civilized ports where she could find other Pak’Ma’Ra. The way she always rushed off as soon as they arrived at a new port made it pretty obvious how much she missed her own people.

Flowers never complained about it though, or about anything, really. Her stoicism and unusual cleanliness were probably all that allowed their former employer to put up with having a Pak’Ma’Ra on his crew. Sya had been desperate enough for a telepath to give her a chance, but her powers alone wouldn’t have been enough to counter the Brakiri’s natural dislike for her kind for long.

When they found the right kiosk, Waldo took up his usual position in a corner, leaning against a bulkhead and watching the crowd pass by. The bored-looking Brakiri slouching over his console didn’t bother to look up as Vera approached. “What?”

“I’m here to give you money.” He perked up immediately and smiled at her. After two years spent working for a Brakiri, Vera knew how to get their attention. “Supply pickup for Sya Nassir, same arrangements as last time. Docking bay three.” She handed over her identicard so he could deduct the funds from her account.

The Brakiri looked past her. “Where’s Sya?”

“You don’t really expect the head of the company to personally oversee every little transaction, do you?” She pursed her lips and stared at him as though it was the dumbest question she’d ever been asked.

He took the hint and processed her card. Once the transfer was confirmed, he handed the card back. “I’ll notify the Dockers Guild of the transfer… Unless you’d like to pay for expedited processing?”

Vera rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Then I can’t help you any further.” He propped his head on his hand and went back to staring at his console.

Unfazed, Vera motioned to Waldo and they set off in search of a food stall that wasn’t going to poison them. Twenty minutes later, they sat at a table listening to the conversations around them, trying not to think too hard about where the vendor might have obtained the ‘chicken’ for their curry.

The war between the Narn and Centauri came up often, mostly in complaints about how much it had disrupted local trade routes. There was also the usual talk among the spacers about raider activity. From the sound of things, Vera gathered that all the extra patrols around the borders and near Babylon 5 had pushed the few remaining raiders into the back roads and unclaimed territories. At any other time she would consider that good news. Unfortunately, the Dorac system was about as ‘back road’ as you could get in this part of the galaxy. They’d have to be more careful than usual on this run.


	3. Chapter 3

The ship bucked and heaved as they made the transition to normal space through the Dorac jumpgate. The ancient gate had not been maintained for centuries. It was a testament to the advanced technology of the unknown race who had built them that it still worked at all.

Waldo called in from his control station in engineering, “Vera, I’m reading some kind of metallic debris field on long-range sensors. You see it?”

Vera switched one of the displays over to the same feed. “Got it. Seems awfully small to be an asteroid collision. You think it might be a ship?”

“Possibly. We’d have to get a lot closer to find out. It’s kind of out of our way, though.”

Vera tapped her fingers on the console as she examined the readings. If the Rangers expected the crew to pay their own way as part of her cover, they were going to have to take advantage of every opportunity for profit they could find. Their current supply run would not yield much on its own. “We’re not exactly on a tight schedule, and frankly I’m pretty bored. Besides, we could use the extra money if there’s parts we can salvage. I’ll take her in close enough for you to get a proper scan.”

Almost two hours later, Waldo linked into the cockpit again. “I’m picking up a weak distress signal. Looks like a standard automated beacon. Guess that answers our question.”

“Escape pod?”

“Probably. We’d better hope that they’re either completely fine or completely dead. My first aid skills are pretty rusty.”

Vera shared the sentiment— their medical facilities consisted of one whole EMT kit. If anyone got seriously hurt, there wasn’t much they could do about it.

There was enough left of the wreckage to determine it had once been a full-sized cargo hauler. It had been blasted into three ragged pieces, all of them riddled with scorched holes. Two of the six cargo pods it was capable of carrying were still attached to the remains of the forward section. They were both ruptured, the edges of each hole melted to slag. The remains of a third pod dangled from the middle section, the rest of it torn away. Smaller bits of wreckage floated everywhere.

They found the escape pod on the periphery of the debris field. Vera’s palms began to sweat as she tried to line up the ship’s docking port with the pod. She’d never attempted this before outside of a simulator. The difference in relative size between the two vessels increased the difficulty of the maneuver. Worse still, their docking port was on the side of the ship. It required her to fly as though she was facing sideways, skewing her perceptions.

Jaw clenched, she checked and rechecked the short-range scanners while they closed in with the pod. A tweak here, a nudge there, her heart rate increased with the pings of the range sensor. The pod rotated slowly, forcing her to chase a moving target. Vera moved the ship in to close the last few feet. Just as she thought she had everything where it should be, the alignment drifted. She was coming in too fast and at the wrong angle.

“Nonononoshit!” Vera jammed down hard on the reverse thruster control, but it was too late. The ship bumped the pod with an audible thud. She held the reverse thrust and backed off as her pulse thundered in her ears.

If she hit the pod too hard, she’d rupture its hull and kill whoever was inside. It could also damage their airlock, something no sane spacer wanted to risk. Worse still, she had to make sure she didn’t push the pod deeper into the wreckage where their ship couldn’t reach it.

She nearly leapt out of her seat despite the harness when Waldo demanded, “What the hell’s going on up there, Vera?”

“Not now!” she said through clenched teeth. _Breathe. Just breathe._ She ran through some of the mind-focusing exercises she had learned during her training. _Relax. Refocus. Return to center._ Only a cool head and a clear mind would get her through this. Panic would just get people killed.

She brought the ship to a relative stop with the pod and tried again. The ship crept forward, stopped, crept forward again. The sensors indicated she was lined up correctly. “Now or never,” she said to herself.

Vera nudged the controls one last time. The ship’s docking ring gently kissed the escape pod. Her whole body sagged as she let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Light-headed with relief, she activated the docking clamps to secure the pod to their ship. The readouts all went from yellow to a cheerful green. Vera took a moment to recover before releasing the harness and climbing out of the pilot seat. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made her legs ache. _Whoever’s in there had better appreciate this, or I’m shoving them back in that pod and leaving them here._

*****

They opened the escape pod to discover a tiny, dark-skinned man with a Fu Manchu mustache. He wore a black leather cowboy hat with a leopard print band and a dark flight jacket over a tan spacer’s jumpsuit. When Vera glanced downward, she saw a pair of mournful-looking bunny slippers staring back at her, their floppy ears waving like curious insect antennae in the microgravity. Her face contorted, but she couldn’t repress a snicker.

He glanced down at his feet and shrugged, grinning. “Better than being caught without your pants.”

Waldo peered over her shoulder into the escape pod, “Huh. Well, there’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Feeling’s mutual, kid. I thought I was gonna die out there!” He pushed himself out of the escape pod and into the airlock with his right hand out. “Tony Chow. Everybody just calls me Jolly.”

As he floated over, Vera noticed the large, empty pistol holster on his right thigh. She checked his off hand. It was empty, too. As she reached out to him, she let her other hand drift to the pocket hiding her denn’bok, just in case. “Welcome aboard. I’m Vera. This is Waldo.”

Waldo nodded at Jolly, then drifted off toward the engine room without a word.

“So, what happened?”

Jolly snorted in disgust. “Got popped by raiders. Bastards shouldn’t have been operating this far out. Once they spotted me, there was no way that tubby beast was gonna outrun ‘em. Put up the best fight I could, then hoped the pod would get lost in the debris when they picked her apart. Honestly, I figured I was just trading a quick death for a slow, lonely one, but I wasn’t gonna give them the satisfaction of scragging me. Never really expected anyone to actually pick me up out here.”

Vera relaxed. The little man before her was just a nervous victim of circumstance, not a threat. “Glad we could help.” Her gaze drifted upwards. “Okay, I gotta ask. What’s with the hat?”

Jolly broke into a sly grin. “Best way to keep people from noticing things is cover it up with something they don’t want to look at.”

He lifted his hat to reveal a scarred and stubbled scalp with several cybernetic implants spaced across his motor cortex and a data jack at the base of his skull. “Shuttle crash during the Minbari war. It was either this or spend the rest of my sad life lying paralyzed in a hospital bed. Made the most of it though. Thanks to a few aftermarket tweaks, I can connect directly to a ship’s control systems. Give me a good ship and a data port, I can outfly anybody out there. ’Course, not many people treat cyborgs too well these days, so I keep that little secret under my hat.” He winked at her and put his hat back on. “People look down on me enough as it is.”

Vera pursed her lips and shook her head, “Nope. Not touching that one.”

Jolly looked disappointed, “Aw, you’re no fun. Such a perfect setup, too.”

“It’s going to be a couple days before we can drop you off anywhere, so I may as well show you around.”

Jolly spun and grabbed a bulky duffel bag out of the pod. “There. Now you can dump the dead weight.” He hit the control panel shutting the outer airlock door.

Vera eyed the dark red bag. “You had enough time to grab all that, but not your shoes?”

“You got any idea how much a custom EVA suit costs? I can get new shoes anywhere.”

She looked down at his feet and tried not to start laughing again. “Point taken.”

“Oh, and now that we know we’re all friends here, I don’t need to hide this anymore.” He reached under the back of his jacket and brought out the biggest revolver Vera had ever seen. She stared wide-eyed at it as he put it back in its holster.

“Is that a slug-thrower?” she asked in horror.

He gave her a proud smile. “Yup. Porstet Nine Thunder. Drazi make ‘em. Biggest damn handgun you can buy.”

“What kind of lunatic carries a slug-thrower on a starship? Do you actually _want_ a hull breach?”

“Lets people know I might not take myself very seriously, but they’d better. Think of it as mutually assured destruction. That and a little bit of crazy is a more effective deterrent than you’d think.”

Vera leaned in close and locked eyes with him. “Just so we understand each other, if you pull that thing out on my ship, I’ll feed you to the Pak’Ma’Ra.”

“Underst— Wait, you’ve got a Pak’Ma’Ra on board?”

“Oh, right, I still need to introduce you to Flowers. Come on.” She glided off towards the cargo bay.

Jolly stared at her back with an incredulous look on his face. “You call your Pak’Ma’Ra ‘Flowers’? You people are weirder than I am.”

*****

Even without gravity confining everyone to floorspace it was cramped in the ship’s cockpit. The small area behind the seat allowed enough space for entry and exit, not gawking passengers. Flowers and Waldo both crowded in near the ceiling above Vera, taking turns looking at the wreck through the starboard viewport. Jolly hung back in the ladder well near the floor hatchway.

Flowers’ gaze became unfocused. “There is…something…out there.”

Waldo reached past Vera to adjust a few of the scanners and examined the readings for a moment. “I’m not seeing anything unusual here. Just a bunch of junk— er, sorry, Jolly.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Jolly sighed. ”That’s what she is now. Nothin’ I can do about it.”

Flowers insisted, “It pulls on my brain. We should find it. Interrogate.”

“We really need to get you a better translator, Flowers.” Waldo grumbled, “I swear half the stuff that comes out of that thing doesn’t make any sense.”

Flowers turned to him and held the translator unit up, “It functions. It says what I want it to.”

“Sure, it’s fine if you’re just trying to convey ‘Move the box over there.’ or ‘Where’s the toilet?’, but it kind of fails at nuance and advanced concepts. That thing makes you sound like a dumb child half the time.”

Flowers pushed off of the ceiling to glide out of the cockpit, “Move the ship. I will walk to it.”

“See what I mean?” Waldo yelled to her retreating form.

Vera unstrapped from the pilot seat and trailed after Flowers, “Jolly, dump the pod and move the ship in as close as you can safely manage. I’ll go EVA with Flowers to make sure she doesn’t get tangled up in anything.”

As they were pulling their EVA suits out of storage, Vera glanced down the hall to make sure they were alone. “Flowers, how do you feel about Jolly? Can we trust him?”

“He wants a new home. He is afraid to have a family to lose again. He is more afraid of having nothing.”

While the reply didn’t answer her question, it was more interesting and useful than what she’d been looking for. Vera smiled. “I can work with that.”

They both put on their helmets and finished their system checks before heading into the airlock.

*****

Up close, the debris field felt like the grinding maw of some metallic beast. Even though they had far more room to maneuver in their EVA suits, they were also more exposed. Vera brought an extra suit patch kit as a precaution, but it provided little reassurance.

Flowers guided them to the most intact of the cargo pods. Packing materials and debris drifted out of a scorched, gaping hole in the top like a confetti spray in ultra slow motion. They proceeded inside, guiding everything out of their way so the lights on their helmets could illuminate the interior of the pod. It did little good. The blast had broken most of the restraining nets and straps. Assorted containers and a seemingly limitless supply of packing materials filled the space before them, limiting their visibility. Vera attached a tether to Flowers’ suit. She worried more about losing track of Flowers than getting caught on something.

Following whatever call she had sensed on the ship, it did not take Flowers long to find a battered case in a far corner. Both the electronic lock and the tamper seal were still intact. The case stopped turning in her hands, but Flowers continued to stare at it in silence.

“Flowers?” Vera reached out to touch her shoulder.

The contact seemed to pull her back to awareness. She turned to look at Vera. “Whispers. Many whispers.” She clipped the carrying handle of the case to her suit. “Ready to go.”

On the return trip, Vera left the safety tether attached. She didn’t want to risk Flowers being distracted by the case again. One rescue a day was more than enough for her.

*****

The entire crew assembled around the case in the cargo hold. After Flowers’ comments about “whispers”, everyone was nervous.

Waldo consulted the readout on a hand scanner. “Nothing useful. The case is shielded. No signs of chemical explosives at least.”

Vera looked over at Jolly. “Any idea what’s in this thing?”

He shrugged. “Not a clue. In my business you don’t ask, and they don’t tell. When there are contracts, they always include not to open the cargo. I can tell you that it’s the reason for my trip. Everything else I was carrying was just stuff I bought myself to sell when I got there.”

“And where is ‘there’?”

“Batain. One more jump from here in Centauri space. Case was for some guy named Baron Orlo of the House of Refa. Supposed to be a major bonus if I got it there ahead of schedule, so I was risking the restricted jump route. Busted that bet big time. Brontran’s gonna be pissed. Not much I can do about it now, though. I’m sure everyone will just assume I’m dead when I don’t come back. Guess you may as well keep it as a ‘thanks for saving my ass’ gift.”

Vera and Waldo both failed to open the electronic lock. The biometric sensor was just too advanced to fool or bypass. In the end, they had to borrow a pencil-sized miniature plasma torch from Flowers to carve the lock off of the case.

It opened to reveal what looked like an obsidian ostrich egg. Featureless and smooth, it reflected and distorted their faces like a black funhouse mirror.

Waldo leaned toward it. “What the hell is that?”

“Whispers,” Flowers said. “Many voices. Calling. Promise. Secrets and pleasure. Calling.” She moved toward the egg.

Vera reached out and slammed the case closed, breaking the spell. “Okay, I’m officially labeling this thing as ‘too creepy to play with’. Waldo, stuff that thing in the far end of the cargo bay. Whatever it is, it can wait until we’re finished with our supply run. After that, we can worry about figuring out what it is and if it’s worth anything.” She put herself directly in front of Flowers. “And you don’t go near that thing. If anything weird happens, you come get me immediately.”

Flowers simply nodded.

*****

It took them almost a full day of travel in normal space to reach Dorac 7. The small, rocky world had barely half the gravity of Earth. Surface temperatures in the thin atmosphere were just warm enough to allow a few scattered lakes near the equator. Few creatures would consider this a hospitable environment, but to the Mars dissidents who had created a new colony here, it was practically a tropical island. Even desolation is relative.

When their orbit brought the colony into view, Vera joined Jolly in the cockpit to get a better look at the progress of the construction. The colony dome had been completed, and the buildings inside were progressing well, but the communications and monitoring array still stood half-finished. The colonists had accomplished a lot in the six months since their first encounter, but plenty of work remained. The hanger and cargo bays were finished, at least, providing plenty of room for the ship to land in pressurized comfort.

Jolly reached for the comm controls, then hesitated. “Can’t believe I forgot to ask this, but what the hell is the name of this ship, anyway?”

“More Gravitas.”

He twisted in his seat to look at her. “Seriously?”

“Used to be the Tits McGee, but they said we had to change it to something with more gravitas… So we did.” She performed a half somersault and kicked off of the ceiling, sending her out of the cockpit and down the ladder well to the main deck.

Jolly stared after her trying to decide if she was joking.

*****

Leo McCulloch, the colony quartermaster, waited for Vera at the foot of the loading ramp. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other and running his hand through his receding hair. When Vera reached him at the end of the ramp, he jammed his hands in his pockets and tried to peer past her into the ship’s open cargo bay. “Hi. Um, where’s your friend Sya?”

“Working on other business ventures. He left the rest of us to handle your supply contract. Don’t worry, nothing’s changed. We made a deal, and we’ll make sure we keep it.” Vera offered her most reassuring smile.

“Ah, good. Please start unloading the cargo immediately while I see to your payment. You’ll need to leave as soon as possible.” His eyes widened as he caught himself. “Er, I don’t mean to sound rude. You see, we’re expecting another shuttle soon and we’ll need the landing space cleared before they arrive.”

Vera eyed the hanger as they walked up the ramp to her ship. There was more than enough room for a shuttle, even with unloading operations taking up additional space. They hadn’t brought all that much, after all. Vera agreed without protest. She didn’t want to arouse any suspicion, considering her own ulterior motives for being there. The download from the bug she’d planted in their computer core wouldn’t take more than a few minutes anyway.

While Leo was inspecting the cargo to confirm everything was in order, Vera retreated further into the ship to warn Jolly to stay in his cabin. The quartermaster seemed nervous enough already. An unfamiliar face on their crew would only make things worse. Afterward, she stopped by the control station in engineering to trigger the download, then returned to assist the rest of the crew with unloading.

Before they could finish their work, an alarm sounded, notifying the dockworkers that a ship was coming through the hangar airlock. A worker ran up to Leo and whispered something in his ear. His eyes bulged and he rushed off without a word, leaving the worker standing alone in the middle of the cargo bay. When he realized everyone was watching him, he forced an awkward smile and excused himself.

A few moments later, the hangar’s inner doors opened to reveal a standard Earth Alliance shuttle. The automated docking systems towed it into a parking slot in the cargo area and the inner doors resealed. Several techs immediately descended on the ship to begin refueling and inspection operations.

The shuttle’s hatch folded downward to provide access stairs, and a tall, dark-haired man emerged. His designer silk suit and handsomely neutral face made him look like a news anchor. His gaze swept the hanger without pausing on the crew or their ship. Temujin, the colony’s leader came jogging up as he descended the stairs. There was a brief exchange before they both turned and Temujin lead the man towards the entrance to the colony dome.

They were too far away for Vera to make out anything being said. She did her best to watch them out of the corner of her eye as she continued to unload small crates of equipment. Her instructors had worked hard to instill a habit of memorizing details in her. Anything could turn out to be valuable later. If the colonists didn’t want them here for this man’s arrival, she wanted to know why.

When the two men passed close enough to be heard, Vera bent down and pretended to adjust the fit of her boots. She was straining so hard to make out what they were saying she nearly leapt sideways when something crashed to the floor right behind her. She whipped her head around catching herself halfway to a fighting stance. Displaying her combat training could give her away as easily as sloppy eavesdropping.

Flowers stood behind her, wide-eyed and trembling. A small crate sat on its side at her feet. She emitted a screeching noise like nails against a chalkboard, then bolted inside their ship, nearly knocking Waldo into a stack of crates in the process. Once he regained his balance, Waldo gave Vera a flustered look and silently mouthed, _What the fuck?_

Vera glanced back at the two men. Temjuin was glaring at them. The other man only looked irritated at the interruption and continued walking. He said something that brought Temujin’s attention back to their conversation and they both continued on towards the main colony entrance.

As soon as they were out of sight, Vera rushed up to Waldo. “Finish unloading, I’m going to go see what’s up with Flowers.”

She trotted to the back of the cargo bay. Flowers lived in a large shipping container that had been converted into self-contained crew quarters with its own bathroom and heavy-duty air filtration systems. The crew referred to it as the Pak Suite.

Vera took a deep breath before opening the door. Under a dim, red light, she could see Flowers crouched in a corner behind a low table, holding her head in both hands. She rocked back and forth making noises, but her translator didn’t seem to know what to do with them.

“Flowers? What happened? Are you okay?”

It took a moment for the translator to make any sense of the noises Flowers continued to make. “Darkness— Falling— Cold… So cold.”

“Come on out so I can talk to you.” Vera was running out of air, but Flowers continued to try to burrow into the corner of the room. She put her sleeve over her face and tried to breathe through her mouth. Even so, the pungent smell of rot made her gag. She wasn’t going to be able to stay in here long enough to help Flowers without a breather mask. “I’ll come back to check on you as soon as I can.”

Vera slammed the door closed behind her and took a few steps towards cleaner air before allowing herself to breathe in. It took a moment for her stomach to stop churning. She usually appreciated that Flowers kept her food stores with her in the Pak Suite, but it also served as an effective deterrent to visitation.

If she couldn’t get any answers from Flowers, she needed to try a different approach. Her eyes narrowed as she looked out the cargo doors. _Alright, Mister Spooky, let’s go see what you’re up to._

Vera rushed back to the control station in engineering. The download had finished already, which freed up the bandwidth she needed to connect to the colony’s security systems. She flipped through one camera feed after another, searching for the mysterious stranger’s face. She finally found him in the temporary administrative office. He was frowning while Temujin gesticulated towards him. Vera activated the camera’s microphone.

“—see what the problem is. What do you want from me, Nathan?”

 “The monitoring equipment must be brought on-line as quickly as possible. Don’t forget this was the requirement for the assistance we provided. There’s still so much we can do for each other. I’m sure you understand the importance of fulfilling our agreements.”

Nervousness and irritation warred on the older man’s face, “I’m sure _you_ understand the importance of getting life support and hydroponics systems setup and functional first. You can’t run a colony on canned air and packaged rations forever. If we all suffocate or starve to death, there won’t be anyone left to run your precious monitoring system, now will there? I haven’t forgotten our deal. The infrastructure was finished 2 days ago. Your systems will be up and running in another week, and you can concentrate on doing whatever it is you do when you’re not here trying to rush my crew. I’m sure you have plenty of more important things to do than harass a handful of nobodies out in the ass end of space.”

Nathan’s slow smile never reached his eyes. “Yes, quite. I’m sure we’ll both be delighted to leave each other in peace.”

Waldo stepped into the doorway to the engine room. “There you are. Unloading’s done. Leo practically threw the credits at my head and told us to piss off. Why does everyone have such a bug up their ass today?”

Vera glanced back at the monitor. Nathan had disappeared from the camera’s view and Temujin scowled in the direction of his office door.

The Minbari legends spoke of servants of the Shadows who moved among the races recruiting, tempting, and sowing chaos. _Is that why Flowers freaked out? Could she somehow sense the touch of the Shadows on him?_ The data she had acquired might be important after all. “Tell Jolly to get us out of here ASAP. We need to get back to Minbar.”

Waldo pulled up short as he was turning to leave. “Minbar? I thought we were going to start scouting out new dig prospects.”

Vera desperately groped for a plausible excuse that wouldn’t require her to explain the real reason for her rushed return. She hated to lie to her friends. “We don’t have the equipment to properly analyze that egg thing we found. I made a few friends on Minbar who could scan it for us.”

“Overachiever. I spent all of my time trying to learn enough Minbari to keep Sya from embarrassing himself.” Waldo left to notify Jolly of their rushed departure.

*****

Even after Flowers calmed down enough to leave her quarters, all Vera could get out of her was this Nathan person felt ‘wrong’ and was ‘surrounded by buzzing darkness’. It didn’t provide her with any better confirmation of her theory. Something was certainly going on, but she had no definitive proof of what it could be. She needed more.

While they retraced their path through normal space back to the jumpgate, Vera sat in her cabin and reviewed the data looking for any other signs of him. After a frustrating eight hours of study, she had acquired a better understanding of the day to day operations of the colony than she could ever care about. She knew the colony’s construction schedule, maintenance schedule, even performance reviews of the workers. She slogged through Temujin’s dull and unenlightening personal journal. She failed to find a single sighting or mention of Nathan anywhere.

She brought up the footage from the meeting she had witnessed earlier. They wanted the colony to monitor Vorlon space in exchange for ‘the assistance we provided’. _That doesn’t tell me a damn thing. Who’s ‘we’? The Shadows, Earthforce Intelligence, IPX?_ Everyone wanted to know more about the Vorlons. Without more proof, the Rangers would just blow it off as unimportant. A Pak’Ma’Ra with an anxiety attack hardly proved a Shadow conspiracy. They’d just laugh at her if she brought such flimsy accusations back to Minbar.

“Hey, I know that guy.”

Vera started and looked behind her. Jolly hovered in the open doorway looking at her monitor. She’d forgotten to lock her door. She wasn’t used to having to hide her work from the rest of the crew. _Sloppy idiot. You can never lower your guard, not even in your own home._ Out loud she said, “Jolly, what can I— wait, what did you say?”

“I’ve seen that guy before.” He pointed to the frozen image of Nathan on the screen.

Vera half-fell out of the chair trying to turn to face him. “Where?”

“Port City on Zafran 8. He was talking to my former boss, Brontran.” He eyed her. “Why, he owe you money or something?”

“Or something. Do you know what they were talking about?”

“Nope. He was on his way out when I got there.”

Disparate threads danced with each other in her mind, forming and reforming into possibilities. “Didn’t you say Brontran was the one who hired you to ship that egg thing to Centauri space?”

“Yeah.”

Vera looked back to contemplate Nathan’s face. She needed proof. If this really was a lead on a Shadow agent, it was her duty to follow it. This was too important to ignore. _I can’t get there alone, and they won’t just go along with it without any kind of explanation._ She took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. “Jolly, tell the others to meet me in the cargo hold. We need to talk.”

*****

The Minbari had a very Eastern way of teaching things. When a student did something badly, they would not point out the flaws then show them the correct way to do things until they got it right. They did not wait until the student had mastered something to make the job their responsibility. Instead, the instructor would give an assignment, and if the student screwed it up, they were now stuck doing the job until they mastered it, no matter how long it took.

Vera was no storyteller, yet every Ranger cadet must tell the new recruits the story of the First Ones and the Shadow Wars. She could remember every important fact about the story with ease, but weaving it into something compelling and engaging that impacted the audience on an emotional level was not her strong suit. In fact, she was terrible at it. Vera preferred avoiding people’s notice far more than manipulating them directly. As a result, she ended up having to tell the story over and over again to countless groups of recruits. She sometimes suspected they finally relieved her of the duty because it would keep her from graduating rather than because she had actually mastered the art of storytelling.

The first classes of humans were needed out in the field too urgently to spend the many years usually required to properly train a Ranger. They were careful to only recruit already skilled and experienced humans, but a great deal of their new skills had to be learned ‘on the job’ as it were. The old Minbari masters had gaped in horror at Sinclair’s suggestion to cut corners and limit the first few classes of new recruits to the bare essentials. The Minbari live for their rituals and traditions. However, the Rangers had learned to be pragmatic over the many years since the last Shadow War. In the end, necessity won out over tradition. Vera sometimes imagined her hidebound teachers crying themselves to sleep at night over losing that argument.

It seemed Vera hadn’t been freed of her storytelling duty after all. She shook her head and smiled at the memory. This wasn’t what she thought they’d meant when they said her training would never really be over. She looked at her three crewmates arranged in front of the Pak Suite.

“Waldo and Flowers, you know we rescued that Minbari from Dorac the first time we were there, and that she was on some kind of covert mission. When we brought her back to Minbar, I told you I was going with her to study Minbari culture while you guys helped Sya set up his new trading partnership. While technically true, it wasn’t the entire story. With everything that’s happened today, I think all three of you need to know the rest.“

She took a deep breath, and told The Story again. She told them of the First Ones— races who had walked the stars like giants for millions of years. She told them of the Shadows and of the terrible destruction they would wreak on the galaxy every time they returned. She told them how the Minbari had fought them in the last great war a thousand years before, and how, when it finally ended, some of them had been tasked with watching for signs of the Shadows’ return. She told them of the Rangers and their commitment to fight the darkness, whatever form it took. Finally, she admitted she had become one of them.

“The xenoarchology thing was supposed to be my cover. We’re always out on the rim or some other out of the way place where nobody ever goes. I was supposed to watch for anything suspicious. Most of the time, it would be business as usual, just like old times. But if we ever found anything, it was my duty to investigate. Well, my friends, we found something.”

Waldo, who had been staring at her tight-lipped ever since she had revealed herself as a Ranger, furrowed his brow. “You’re saying that egg thing we found has something to do with these Shadows?”

“Not only that. The Rangers already suspected Dorac Colony might be a listening post for the Shadows. It’s right on the border of both Vorlon and Minbari territory. You saw how badly that guy, Nathan, freaked out Flowers. Have you ever seen her do that with _any_ other person?”

Waldo shook his head.

“I think he was a servant of the Shadows,” Vera said. “I also think this black egg we found is connected to him somehow. Jolly said he’s seen this guy talking to his boss back on Zafran 8. It may be circumstantial, but we have to find out for sure. This is too important to ignore.”

Waldo let go of the cargo strap he’d been using to anchor himself and flung his hands in the air. “Sure, what the hell! We’re failures as grave robbers, let’s go be failures at saving the galaxy, too!” He swung around the Pak Suite and shoved himself out of the cargo bay.

Vera was so shocked by the unexpected display he was gone before she could even react. She resigned herself to trying to smooth things over with him later. There was no point in chasing after him now. He was just going to shut himself in his cabin and sulk for a while. She turned towards the others, hoping for a better reaction from them.

Jolly took off his hat and ran his hand across his scalp while staring at the floor. “Can’t say I’m excited about the idea of going back to Brontran’s territory after losing his cargo,” he raised his head and met Vera’s gaze, “but I owe you my life. You kids promise to watch my back, I’m in. Just hope this goes better than the last war I was in.”

Vera looked him directly in the eyes. “Don’t worry, we take care of our own.” She turned her head to her last audience member. “Flowers?”

“The Churn comes. I will follow your story.”

Flowers was always hard to read, an unavoidable side effect of having facial tentacles and no eyebrows. On top of that, the translator she spoke through had no vocal inflection to hint at her feelings. Vera was uncertain what Flowers had meant, but it seemed to imply an affirmative. She’d take any victory she could get right now.

“Thanks, guys. It means a lot to me. Jolly, take us to Zafran. I’m going to go see if I can figure out what’s eating Waldo.”

*****

Vera hit the call button next to Waldo’s cabin door. A muffled, unintelligible response emerged from the other side. She waited a moment, then pressed the button again.

The door slid aside to reveal Waldo sitting at his customized terminal. Multiple screens covered half the wall, and cabinets with transparent doors took up the remaining space. They were filled with old books and various items unearthed during past digs. The wall above his bunk displayed a faded, threadbare tapestry from a civilization extinct long before humans even existed. Its deteriorated colors left nothing more discernible than faint rust and tan-colored splotches. None of the artifacts had any value beyond sentimental. Sya always sold everything of worth they found, only allowing them to pick through the unwanted remains for souvenirs. A thin coating of gritty, beige dust covered everything but his bed and the terminal. Waldo’s cabin always smelled like a library had been left open to a desert.

A single finger jabbed a slow rhythm at his keyboard, paging through documents on the screen. Waldo didn’t bother to turn his head to look at Vera. “What?”

“What do you think?” Vera braced her feet against the sides of the door frame so she could cross her arms without drifting away.

Waldo continued to stab at the keyboard. “Does it matter? I’m out-voted anyway. You obviously want to keep Jolly on as our pilot, and Flowers always goes along with whatever the group decides.”

“Is this about Jolly?”

He turned his head to glare at her and grimaced. “No, this isn’t about Jolly.” Waldo resumed staring at the screen and switched to drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk.

“Then, what, you want to leave? You’re not a prisoner here. If you have that much of a problem with what we’re doing you don’t have to stay.”

Waldo spun to face her and jumped to his feet so hard he nearly rammed his head into the ceiling. He shouted, “You think I’d be here if I had anywhere else to go? Look around, Vera!” He waved his hands, gesturing at the walls. “This worn-out pile of junk is almost as old as I am. What kind of Brakiri do you think would buy a worthless human-built ship like this? A poor and desperate one who couldn’t cut it among his own kind. Sya’s no scientist. He doesn’t know shit about xenoarcheology! He was just chasing a get-rich-quick dream, thinking we’d dig up some amazing tech he could sell to make his millions and finally go play with the big boys back home.” His pale skin blushed as his tirade continued. “And what kind of xenoarchaeologist do you think a guy like that can afford to hire? One that’s as broke and desperate as he is! If I was any good at my job, I’d be working for IPX or some university, not running around the ass end of space robbing graves to pay my bills. For fuck’s sake, I spend more of my time trying to keep this piece of shit running than I do pretending to be a scientist! And neither job’s getting me very far, is it?”

“Waldo, it’s not—“

“All I’ve got left is some secondhand hope from Sya’s bullshit dream, and now you want me give up on even that? What the hell am I supposed to do while you’re off playing at special forces super spy? I can’t fight a war. I’m not a secret agent. Am I supposed to just sit here hoping we don’t run out of money for repairs while the rest of you charge off and go fight the bad guys? Where’s the money coming from if we’re not digging? Am I supposed to sell my skinny ass on the street to finance your little adventures? Seriously, Vera, just what the hell do you want from me?” Waldo panted slightly, his body somewhat hunched as though he had exhausted all of his energy with his anger.

Vera was at a loss. Waldo could be irritable when working on the ship. He could be downright crabby after a dig left them empty-handed, but so could the rest of the crew. He’d never gone on a rant like this before, though. She let her arms drift down to her sides. “I’m sorry, Waldo, I had no idea.” Even though he seemed to have burned off the worst of it, she chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to set him off again. “We’re not giving up on the digs. Look at it this way, the Rangers have eyes and ears in a lot of secret places. We’ll be making contacts and allies everywhere we go. That’s a lot of potential leads we never had when we were on our own. Sure, the war is going to be one hell of a distraction, but that’s going to happen even if you leave. The whole galaxy is going to burn if the Shadows aren’t stopped.”

Waldo puffed up as though he was going to argue with her, but she held up a placating hand. “I’m not asking you to fight on the front lines. All I’m asking is for you to support us the same way you always have. You’re a better engineer than you give yourself credit for. I doubt very many other people could have kept this ship running as long as you have with so little to work with. We’ll have plenty of need for a linguist, and I suspect you’ll get more use out of your degree than you think. We’re going after ancient races with highly advanced technology. Isn’t that exactly what you’ve been hoping to dig up all this time?”

He sagged, the fire fading from his eyes, so Vera pressed her advantage. ”Think about it, Waldo. Do you really enjoy living on rations, sleeping in tents on the lumpy ground, and getting blisters rooting around in the dust and muck? Or is it the discovery of something wondrous no other human has ever seen? Is it learning secrets, finding new technologies and new races? It doesn’t have to be dead and buried for millennia. You can still find those things without all the dirt.”

Waldo stared at the floor in silence for a long moment. Finally, he spoke in a hoarse voice, “Okay. I’ll… I’ll do what I can.”

Vera reached out to touch his bony shoulder. “That’s all anyone can ever ask.”


	4. Chapter 4

The ten day journey to the Zafran system passed quickly. Jolly seemed to have an endless supply of stories to share. He’d spent more than a decade gathering them from fellow pilots in ports all over the galaxy. They were absurd, lewd, exciting, and obviously complete fabrications, but the rest of the crew devoured them all. They had worn out all of their own stories long ago and craved something new. For her part, it relieved Vera to see him integrating so well with everyone.

Port City crowded in close to the spaceport that had inspired its name. The streets and buildings were strangely familiar for an alien planet. Most of the architecture reflected human styles. When they exited the main terminal into the cool, dry air, Vera’s nose twinged with the effervescent burn of thruster fumes. A brown-tinged haze of pollution from the nearby factories tainted the pale green sky. The air hung still, accumulating the reek of trash and machines.

The scrape-flap, scrape-flap of Jolly’s bunny slippers stopped behind them. “Man, this is bullshit! We’re not doing anything ‘til I get me some real shoes.”

Vera looked behind her. Jolly stood with his feet planted and his hands on his hips. He tried to look indignant, but the ragged faces peeking out from under his pant legs just ruined the effect. One of the eyes had fallen off, and Vera just couldn’t shake the feeling it was winking at her.

She tore her eyes away from Jolly’s footwear. “Waldo, could you find us a place to stay while we do some shopping? We might be here a few days.”

“Fine by me, I could use a shower and a nap.”

The thought of a real water shower instantly made Vera feel better about their situation. The bathroom on the More Gravitas could only support a sonic shower. She hadn’t felt the relaxing joy of hot water on her skin since they left Minbar.

Jolly pointed off to the South. “Try the Strauss Hotel. Couple blocks down that way.”

Vera and Flowers followed Jolly to the transport tubes. People stared at him as they passed. Even near a spaceport full of aliens, he stood out.

A brief tube ride brought them to the nearest market district. Makeshift stalls lined the streets in front of more permanent shops. Hawkers called out from every corner, waving their wares about and proclaiming the best deals in the city. The weathered, multi-story buildings behind them seemed to primarily function as mounting surfaces for jumbles of glowing and flashing advertisements, signs, and graffiti-covered billboards. Large cargo vehicles and groundcars crawled through the crowds of pedestrians clogging the streets.

Vera looked around her, taking in the loud, colorful scene. It made sense there were so many more humans than any other alien species here. The Zafran system bordered Earth Alliance territory. However, something was missing she couldn’t quite identify. She stuck near Jolly through the flow of people on the sidewalk, afraid she might lose sight of him in the crowd.

Eventually, Jolly turned and entered a large storefront. The hand-painted lettering in the front window declared “Princely clothing for pauper’s prices! Something for all shapes and sizes!”

When she tried to follow Jolly into the store, a bulky man in dark leathers and sunglasses shouldered his way past her. He didn’t even acknowledge the impact. He turned his head to stare at Jolly as he continued past the shop without slowing down. Her brief flash of irritation turned to concern. She checked the contents of her pockets. Busy markets like these made the perfect environment for pickpockets. She found everything where it should be. Her hand strayed under her jacket to the Ranger pin affixed over her belt buckle. She made of point of wearing normal civilian clothing instead of her uniform robes when out in public, but she always kept the pin on her somewhere as subtle identification for her sharp-eyed peers. It seemed foolish to her to advertise a clandestine organization by wearing such unusual clothing everywhere she went.

Vera and Flowers found Jolly in the store’s meager children’s section. After securing a set of serviceable black hiking boots, he picked up a number of other essentials. The elderly woman at the register put his clothing and bunny slippers in a bag for him with a tired attempt at, “Thank you, come again.”

The three of them exited the store to retrace their path back to the tube when the nagging feeling of something missing finally solidified in Vera’s mind. “Where are all the Zafrans— Zafrani— whatever the natives are called?”

“Wychad,” Jolly said. “Zafrani are from Zafran 7. First planet we saw when we came through the jumpgate. They’re like the rich, snobby neighbors.”

“Okay, so where are all the Wychad, then?”

“Take a few side streets into the slums and you’ll see plenty of ‘em. Port City’s the only spaceport on Zafran 8. They tried to steal as much traffic as they could from their neighbors by making it just like home for the humans and other aliens they wanted here. It kinda worked. Aliens took over most of the city, and now the Wychad are second class citizens on their own planet.”

They paused at a packed group of people blocking the sidewalk. The crowd appeared to be clustered around some kind of street performer, but there were too many people blocking their view to make out what the performer was doing. Jolly looked around for a moment then motioned for them cut behind a rickety stall cobbled together in front of a dirty alley. The stench of rotting garbage assaulted them as they rounded the corner of the stall. Vera thought she heard Flowers’ stomach growling.

Vera returned to their conversation. “And nobody’s doing anything about it?”

“Fixing a planetary economy is way beyond my pay grade.”

Vera heard footsteps behind them and turned her head to one side to try to catch the source in her peripheral vision. “Still, you’d think there’d be protests or resistance or something. Nobody puts up with oppression indefinitely.” A pair of Drazi had just come around the stall, taking the same path they were.

“Maybe someday, but right now— Oof!” Jolly flopped onto his back, and the same bulky man in black leather from the clothing store stepped around the corner in front of them, blocking their way. He pointed a PPG at Jolly and spoke in a gravely voice. “Go for a weapon and he dies.”

Vera was waiting for Flowers to stun the man when someone threw a bag over her head, then taped her hands together behind her back. It sounded as though they did the same to Jolly and Flowers. They were searched, disarmed, and marched to the far end of the alley where the thugs shoved them into some kind of vehicle. Vera was appalled she had been paying so little attention they’d been ambushed. _Maybe a milk run wasn’t such a bad thing after all._

*****

Vera did her best to estimate turns and travel times, but gave up after only a few minutes. She just didn’t have enough sensory input to develop more than the roughest of guesses. Eventually, they were unloaded from from the vehicle and guided into what smelled like another alley. Vera heard one of the Drazi call out something in his own language, and a door latch clicked open. They were marched a few yards further, then forced to kneel on a cold, hard floor.

One of her captors yanked the bag off of her head. Jolly kneeled in front of her. Flowers kneeled to her right. They both appeared unharmed. They were in a large room with storage shelves on all of the walls. The three thugs who had kidnapped them were milling around with 2 more similarly dressed humans.

Before them sat a burly Hurr behind a scuffed and stained desk. He wore a navy blue suit jacket over a Hawaiian print satin shirt so bright it could scald the eyes. A heavily chewed cigar protruded from his almost lip-less mouth. The 3 pairs of nostrils in his porcine snout puffed out a cloud of noxious smoke. The Hurr leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on his desk, “You’re back awfully early, Jolly. And I see you’ve made some new friends. Buyers for my cargo, maybe?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Brontran!” Jolly shouted, “I got jumped by raiders after the Beta 4 transfer. My ship, and your precious cargo were destroyed.”

Cigar smoke puffed out of Brontran’s collection of nostrils as he snorted in disgust.

Vera tried to assist in his defense. “We found his escape pod and gave him a ride home. It was more or less on the way we were headed anyway.”

Without any expression, Brontran rose from his chair, strolled over to Vera, and gave her a swift kick in the stomach. She doubled over gasping for breath. He spoke to the empty air as he returned to his chair, not even looking in her direction, “A female should know better than to speak without being asked a direct question.”

He sat back down in his chair and reclined far back, looking at the ceiling, then took a long drag on his cigar. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes, I was about to execute you for stealing my cargo and making an important client think I can’t be relied on. I would just take your ship, but if it’s been destroyed, you don’t have anything of value left to—”

The door to the office burst open and two dark-skinned, heavily muscled men entered. They took position on either side of the doorway. Both men were hairless and wore only white linen loin cloths. Before anyone could react to their abrupt appearance, they both raised curled golden horns to their lips and blew. The shock wave that emerged from those horns far exceeded anything that could have been produced with a simple brass instrument. The air felt as though it liquefied, Vera couldn’t breathe. Everything shook like a city-rending earthquake.

While everyone lay stunned on the floor, a dual line of identical dark men marched into the room, two by two. These wore the armor of ancient Egyptian warriors. In the middle of this line of men, four more slaves carried a gold and turquoise litter.

The line of men stomped to a halt with the litter in the middle of the room. Focus and hearing returned enough for Vera to realize a woman reclined within. She was dressed in layers of gold to match the litter, with more white linen underneath. In fact, she looked remarkably like the old 20th century movie portrayals of Cleopatra. Brontran just stood and gaped at her as she turned to look at him. “Ah, Brontran, whatever am I to do with you. You’re such a terrible host to your guests.”

He sputtered for a moment before finding his voice again, “How _dare_ you? Who do you think—”

The woman raised her open hand in the air and closed it into a fist in a grasping motion. The sound of Brontran’s voice cut off, despite the continued motion of his lips. “You really have no idea who I am, do you?” She shook her head with a pitying look on her face, “I am Burell.” When this elicited nothing more than a blank stare, she leaned forward and locked eyes with him, “The t _echno-mage_.”

Recognition dawned. Brontran’s eyes widened and he took a step away from her, bringing his back against the far wall.

Burell leaned back into the overstuffed, velvet cushions and continued, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to deprive you of your toys today, Brontran. These,” she gestured one bejeweled hand toward Vera and her companions, “will be working for me now. Since I can’t have them distracted by petty annoyances such as you and your mindless thugs, I hereby declare this Jolly fellow’s debts to you to be null and void. He owes you nothing, and you will not bother him again. I trust we understand each other?”

When Brontran failed to respond, she opened her hand and a small red flame appeared floating in the middle of it, “Come now, don’t make me brand it into your eyelids to ensure you don’t forget.”

Brontran nodded, jaw clenched.

“There’s a good boy.” She turned to Vera, “Come, my dears, you are cordially invited to my tower to finish our discussion.” With that, Burell clapped her hands twice, and the litter and soldiers all backed out of the room. The sound of marching faded into the distance.

Jolly stood up and held his taped hands out to one of the thugs who had finally picked himself up off of the floor, “You mind?” When the man hesitated, Jolly gestured his head toward the still open door, “You really want her coming back in here?”

The man pulled out a long, triangular knife and cut the tape from his wrists. As Jolly left the office, the others followed suit. A moment later, Jolly strode back in. He picked his revolver up off of Brontran’s desk, gave him an impudent smile, and put it back in its holster. He then turned and walked back out with his middle finger held high.

Once they got out of the storeroom, they found themselves in an alley less than a mile away from the spaceport. Burell was nowhere to be seen.

Jolly kept looking behind them as they walked, “Well, now what?”

Vera watched a small skycar pass overhead. She followed its path towards the city center, and her gaze settled on an ornate purple and gold spire that stood out in the city skyline. The gaudy colors and grand, sweeping lines epitomized Centauri architecture. She pointed toward it. “Well, she did say ‘tower’, and techno-mages were mentioned in stories of the first Centauri Emperor.”

Jolly frowned at her. “Kind of a stretch, don’t you think?”

“Unless you’ve got better idea. We’re not exactly in a position to get anything useful out of Brontran right now.”

“I got nothin. We are way off the map right now.” Jolly led them toward an entrance to one of the underground tube transports.

*****

The three of them stood across the street from the main entrance of Centauri Tower debating how to approach the situation. They heard something bang into the brick wall of the alley behind them. When they turned to look, the door at the far end of the alley stood open with no one there. A faint, golden Eye of Horus began to glow on the wall above the door.

They took the hint and entered a brightly lit hallway. The door behind them closed on its own, and another at the far end of the hall opened. It led into some kind of large equipment room, with various pumps, fans, and other machinery churning away. Another door opened into a dimly lit stairwell, which they followed down into what looked like sewer and plumbing access. A long hallway, this one dark and slick with moisture, led into a junction room for several maintenance tunnels leading off in different directions. An angled hatch, similar to the entrance of a storm cellar swung open, revealing more stairs leading down. They could discern a soft, yellow glow at the end of a short tunnel.

The tunnel emptied into a large room lit by dozens of candles scattered among shelves. Dim torches sputtered on the walls, but created no smoke. Work tables and bookshelves lined one wall, the rest were decorated with drifting curtains and wall sconces. A sunken area in the center of the room held comfortable looking couches and chairs. Burell reclined on one of them, watching them gawk.

“Anla’shok Vera, welcome. Tony Chow, please,” she gestured towards the other plush chairs, “make yourselves comfortable. Ar’Um, it is always an honor to have one of the Chosen People in my home.”

The other two glanced at each other in confusion until they realized she addressed Flowers. On the rare occasion people chose to acknowledge her presence, it was usually to express disgust, not respect. Vera realized she had forgotten the Pak’Ma’Ra’s real name. To her she had always just been ‘Flowers’. Such respectful treatment by someone as mysterious and notoriously good with secrets as a techno-mage had them wondering if there was something more to Flowers than anyone had ever realized. Even the usually stoic Flowers stood blinking in surprise for a moment before finally bowing her head in acknowledgment.

The three of them perched on the edge of the plush furniture, too nervous to relax. Burell placed her hands on the arms of her chair and pushed herself upright. They all looked at each other in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment. Vera took a breath, intending to break the awkward silence, but Burell beat her to it.

“What do I want from you? Excellent question. I do hope you’ll forgive my rather theatrical entrance. Brontran’s misogyny may be a disease of Hurr culture, but he enjoys it too much. It amuses me to see him laid low by a woman in front of his own men. Petty and unenlightened, perhaps, but just so gratifying.

“You, my dear, were snatched from the jaws of defeat because you are in possession of something curious. Something you were not meant to have, I believe.” Burell turned her eyes on Jolly. “Something that caught my eye the last time it passed through this place.”

Jolly gulped and shrank back into his seat.

Vera said, “The black egg.”

Burell turned back to Vera. “Tell me everything you know of it. Leave no detail unsaid, no matter how unimportant it may seem.”

Vera hesitated. What little she knew of techno-mages amounted to bits of trivia from the few parts of Waldo’s rambling mythology lectures she hadn’t tuned out. She had the impression they were tricksters and manipulators who largely served their own mysterious ends, but were generally not harmful unless offended. In those cases, the ire of a techno-mage could be devastating, indeed. On the other hand, Burell had saved them from a bad situation. If they weren’t being played simply to be discarded, having a techno-mage as an ally could be a tremendous advantage.

She decided to take the risk. Vera recounted their discovery of the black egg in the remains of Jolly’s ship. She described Flower’s strange reaction to it, and how Jolly had seen Nathan leaving Brontran’s office shortly before he was hired to transport the egg to Centauri space. Jolly also volunteered the name of Baron Orlo as the intended recipient.

Burell leaned back after they were done, looking off into the distance with an unreadable expression on her face. A long moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “Port City was quiet once. The cartels kept the truly dangerous or disgusting things at bay. It was by no means a utopia, but the city maintained a kind of balance.

“Brontran was one of several minor gang leaders that took over after the head of the leading syndicate and most of his lieutenants were assassinated. The sudden power vacuum turned the streets into a war zone as every thug with a weapon fought for a piece of it. Far too much of the violence spilled over into the local populace. Now, the already corrupt local government has been replaced by ineffectual puppets, the security forces are understaffed or bribed into indifference, and some truly repulsive things pass through the markets. I keep hearing the same word repeated in fearful whispers by the people involved: Thenothk.

“A darkness festers within my world, and I will not tolerate it. You seem to have stumbled onto a piece of the puzzle, and I intend to trace it back to its creators.” Burell met Vera’s gaze. “Bring me this thing that I may study it more closely. Help me discover where Brontran obtained it, and why it was sent to this baron.”

Jolly leaned forward. “And what do we get?”

Vera glared at him. “Jolly!”

Burell’s graceful eyebrows floated upwards. “Saving your lives and erasing your debt to Brontran wasn’t payment enough?”

“Don’t get me wrong, lady. I appreciate you saving our asses and all, but if what you wanted was easy, you would’ve done it yourself already. You want us to take all the risk and do all the work? Well, we’ve got bills to pay, how about you chip in a little?”

A small smile briefly played across Burell’s face. “Very well. You play at archaeologists, yes? I offer you as payment a copy of the Writings of Vecris. He was the foremost authority on the First Ones among the techno-mages. There are enough secrets in those volumes to keep you digging for ten lifetimes.”

Vera tried to keep her eyes from bulging. Not only were the First Ones the most ancient races to ever travel the galaxy, they had perfected technology so advanced it would make a techno-mage seem like a monkey with a rock. _If those books lead to even one single First One artifact, every one of us would have more money than we could ever dream of. Assuming, of course, that we survive the coming war with the Shadows, but what dream doesn’t have its little obstacles?_ She glanced at the others. They were both looking to her for a decision. She smiled at Burell and nodded. “I’d say you have yourself a deal.”

*****

It did not take them long to retrieve the case with the black egg from their ship. A few quiet words and a generous bribe from Jolly passed the case through customs without incident. While at the spaceport, they used a public comm terminal to leave a message at the hotel for Waldo informing him they were having a wonderful time seeing the city, and would fill him in later that evening.

Upon their return, they found Burell lounging in the same plush chair. She gestured to the work tables. “Place the case on a table and come sit with me. The scans will take some time and we have much to discuss.” When they were all seated, she clapped her hands twice and called out, “Johnny!”

A man materialized in front of the tables. The muscles of a professional bodybuilder rippled as he dropped to one knee and bowed. “I live to serve, Enchantress.”

When he returned to his feet, Vera realized he wore only a bright red pair of briefs that strained to maintain his decency. _Ugh, really?_ She had always found bodybuilders absurd and somewhat off-putting. _Guess the whole naked slave men thing wasn’t just for Brontran after all. Ah, well, to each their own._

Burell pointed at the case. “Johnny, I’d like you to run a complete analysis on the object in that case.”

“At once, Enchantress.” He lifted the egg out of the case and placed it in an ornate wooden chest squatting on one of the tables. The silver and gold runes inlaid into the wood glowed with a faint blue light.

Turning back to Vera, Burell’s smiling face turned serious. “It seems we are not the only ones who have been busy. While you were away, I had Johnny searching for this Nathan person you mentioned. His face showed up in a comm record with a local Golian slaver named Trakis. Baron Orlo was supposed to supply a large shipment of slaves to him, but the baron refused to deliver them. Trakis wanted to know why, and he seemed to think this Nathan fellow had the answer. I checked the schedule of the ship that had been sent to pick them up. It arrived the day after Jolly’s delivery was expected.”

Jolly leaned back and stroked his mustache. “You’re saying that egg thing wasn’t product, it was payment?”

“Indeed. While you were away, I also intercepted a call Nathan made to Brontran. He sent a replacement to him, and Brontran was expected to make the delivery personally this time. Nathan told him it was his last chance to salvage their partnership.

“I’ve detected two more of these items in Port City within the last twenty four hours. One was on a ship that only stayed in port long enough to pick up some additional cargo and refuel. That ship’s flight plan indicated it was heading to the Drazi homeworld of Zhabar. Strangely, the flight path goes through Beta 9 and Brakiri space rather than the shorter, more obvious route through Epsilon Eridani and Narn space.”

The odd route didn’t make any sense to Vera, either. “Avoiding the war?”

“Unlikely, it was a Narn cargo vessel.”

“And the second egg?”

“Dropped off via long-range shuttle and delivered to Brontran less than an hour ago. The only ship available to transport him to Batain won’t arrive until tomorrow, and I’ve arranged for a rather lengthy delay when they arrive.” Burell grinned. “More than enough time for you to deprive him of his little treasure, and end his arrangement with Nathan.”

Jolly said, “So you’re hiring us to be thieves.”

“It’s an important first step, but not the only one. You’ll still need to find the source of these things— Nathan. I traced the first call to Praxis, a colony on the rim far from any developed race’s territory. However, the second call to Brontran twenty four hours later was traced to Daltron four jumps away. Even the fastest Minbari ship would take two days to make that journey. He must be hiding behind some truly advanced relays if my Johnny couldn’t track him down through them.”

Johnny hung his head at those words. “I am ashamed of my failure, Enchantress.”

She glanced up at him. “Don’t worry, Johnny, I’m sure he cheated.”

The glow faded from the runes on the wooden chest. “Analysis is complete. The results are ready for your perusal, Enchantress.”

“Thank you.”

Johnny dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I live to serve, Enchantress.” He vanished in a flash of red flame.

Burell stared off into space for a long moment, ignoring her guests. When she finally spoke again, she seemed somewhat distracted. “It is not an egg. It is a seed.” She turned her gaze on Flowers, who squirmed in her seat, unused to the direct attention. “Ar’Um, I believe your people can be trusted to keep this seed out of the wrong hands. I will allow you to take it back to Melat, provided you store it in the container I will provide. Do not hold it against flesh. Most importantly, never allow it to stay in contact with dead organic material.”

Before they could spend any time dwelling on the implications of her warning, she held up a fist. An iridescent golden scarab dangled from the delicate chain in her grasp. “This will allow you to contact me if you discover something of importance. Speak my name three times, and I shall hear you.”

Vera took the necklace, and put it around her neck. “So what’s our next move?”

Burell placed her hands flat on the arms of her chair and pushed herself erect. She brought her hands together as though compacting some invisible material into a tight ball, then opened her hands in a tossing motion towards Vera. “The data pad in your jacket now has blueprints and satellite images of the warehouse Brontran uses as home and base of operations. That should be enough information for you to plan your little operation. By the time you return, I will have a second container prepared. I imagine the Rangers would like one of their own to study.”

Vera did her best to hide her discomfort with how easily Burell had remotely bypassed her datapad’s security. She had designed those systems herself. Burell and her computer demon had slipped through robust security systems without any apparent effort. She had laid Brontran and his men low just as easily. What could someone so powerful need with Vera’s crew?

She nodded to Burell and turned to leave. Flowers and Jolly stood to follow her out. Drizzling, cold rain greeted their return to the surface. Rather than cleaning the smog from the dirty green sky, it simply intensified the smell. The city around them had taken on a greasy sheen.

Their stomachs demanded room service as soon as they reached the Strauss Hotel. Over dinner, they related their adventures to Waldo. He couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to be upset or excited. Vera left him examining the scarab necklace and interrogating Jolly in order to indulge in her much-anticipated hot shower.

Feeling better than she had in ages, she gathered them together to examine the warehouse details and plan out their approach. The warehouse was little more than a large half cylinder of sheet metal with access doors on each end. While vulnerable to nearly any kind of assault, it would be difficult to gain entry without being seen. Their approach would be largely dictated by the number and quality of patrols guarding the building. This would require them to scout the area personally.

A late-night approach seemed best. They resolved to meet in the hotel bar downstairs at 3 AM. All but Waldo, who wished them luck and told them to call him if they needed to be bailed out of jail. Flowers left to find the local Pak’Ma’Ra community. The rest of them retired to their rooms to recover from the day’s excitement.

*****

Misting, intermittent rain continued to dampen the city without washing it clean. The low clouds glowed a dull orange in the city lights, occasionally flaring to blue or white in places as a shuttle or aircraft passed through. Few of the street lamps in the industrial district were functioning. Vera noticed bundles of cables snaking out of a number of the dark lamps. They lead into nearby abandoned buildings, stealing city power to feed the needs of the local squatters.

The entrance to the front of the warehouse lay open and unmanned. Either Brontran and his men had supreme confidence no one would dare intrude on their territory, or they were unforgivably sloppy. Even the guard house next to the door stood empty. Flowers waited across the street as a lookout while Vera and Jolly climbed a rusted emergency ladder leading to the warehouse roof.

They peered through the first skylight. Several equipment sheds and a small workshop occupied the far corner of the interior near the main entrance. They could just make out the roof of a large cargo transport vehicle directly below them. There were no lights on in that side of the building.

Jolly eyed the wet curve of the corrugated roof beneath his feet. “You go on. This shit is way too slick for me.” He pulled out his revolver. “I’ll cover you from here.”

Vera nodded and moved on to the next skylight. Two rows of shipping containers stretched across the middle of the warehouse floor. Vehicle maintenance bays took up the far wall. It was brighter in this area, light bleeding from further within. Still no sign of occupation, though. The remaining skylights had been painted over, and she wasn’t willing to risk the noise of breaking any of them. With the warehouse entrance apparently unguarded, Vera thought this was the best opportunity they would get.

They regrouped on the street corner where Flowers stood. Vera pulled out her needler pistol, and loaded in a clip of tranquilizer darts. “Okay, follow me, and keep it quiet. I don’t want anyone to know we were here until long after we’re gone.”

Vera and Jolly leapfrogged their way forward with Flowers trailing behind them as quietly as her awkward, trundling form could manage. They used the large cargo transport as cover, then swung around the side of the vehicle to sprint towards the first row of stacked shipping containers across their path. Vera squeezed between the containers, then signaled Jolly to follow. Unfortunately, the poor drainage of the warehouse floor allowed rainwater to mingle with oil leaked from the vehicles. As he sprinted forward, his feet slid out from under him and he went down, sliding several feet on the slick concrete floor. Vera winced in sympathy. She gritted her teeth and scanned the area with her needler at the ready, expecting the entire place to descend on them. Jolly grabbed his hat, scrambled to his feet, and made his way to her, holding his stomach and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.

When he reached her, he wiped at the abrasions on his forehead and mumbled, “Well, that was embarrassing.”

She continued to scan the area without looking down at him, “You okay?”

“Just knocked the wind out of me. I’m fine.”

Vera nodded and moved forward again, swinging further south around three rows of towering shelves stacked with containers of every size. Jolly signaled Flowers to move up to his position, then crept forward to join Vera.

The east side of the warehouse contained a pair of windowless single-story buildings— one north, the other south. Both had a single door opening into the space in between them. This area was much better lit than the rest of the warehouse. Vera skirted the side of the southern building. A dumpster squatted against the wall near its closest corner. She crouched beside it and peered around the corner into the open area.

Two men sat at a rough metal table playing cards. Just beyond them in the middle of the open space, a limp, gray-scaled figure hung by his tied hands. His bonds hooked over a cargo hoist attached to the roof supports far above. Judging from the torn clothing and crusted, white blood, this poor Drazi had not been treated gently. Vera felt her sides ache in sympathy as she noticed the dirty clubs propped against the table next to the two card players.

She motioned Jolly and Flowers to join her. “I don’t want to risk tipping anyone else off that we’re here, but I’m not about to leave the poor guy strung up like a pinata. Flowers, can you keep them quiet?”

Flowers nodded and moved forward along the wall until she could see the two targets. After a moment, the one facing them stared off into space, card game forgotten.

“Noc? Hey, wake up, dumbass, it’s your turn? Noc?”

Vera swapped her needler for her denn'bok and moved in behind him as he waved his hand in the other man’s face. Her denn’bok struck the base of his skull, and he slumped over the table. The one called Noc gave no sign of noticing the attack on his companion. Vera reached across the table and tranqued him with an auto-injector. When he, too, slumped over, Flowers and Jolly moved in to drag them out of sight around the side of the southern building while Vera found the hoist controls to lower their victim.

As his feet touched the ground, the Drazi woke up and looked at them through swollen eyes. He swayed a little, but didn’t fall.

Vera looked him over as she untied his hands. He was the shortest Drazi she had ever seen, not even as tall as her. Slight of build, he must have been the runt of the litter. Thanks to Drazi culture’s violent nature, the poor man was probably quite used to receiving such beatings. The damage looked mostly superficial. He would hurt for days, but he didn’t carry himself as though anything was broken. Of course, knowing Drazi pride and stubbornness, he could be dying of internal bleeding, and he’d just stand there proudly until he keeled over dead rather than admit weakness to a bunch of strangers. She thought it better to treat him as though he was fine. Showing too much concern might be taken as an accusation of weakness. The last thing she needed was her stealth rescue turning into a shouting match over a perceived insult.

“Keep it quiet. We don’t want to wake up the rest of them.”

He nodded. “Understand. Thank you.”

“Your name?”

“Dhorak.”

“The way to the front door is clear if you can walk.”

“No. Brontran owe twice. One for nephew. Now, one for me. Leave when he pays.”

Vera glanced around, “Is your nephew here?”

“No. In hospital. Brontran demand protection money. He refuse. Brontran have him beat until he almost dies. Burn store. Come here for _in-shala_ but… too many. They take weapons. Now, take back, and Brontran pays.” Dhorak’s voice rose on the last sentence, forcing Vera to wave him into silence before he got too worked up.

 _In-shala,_ literally ‘Law of Pain’. The Drazi word meant somewhere between truth, justice, and the spirit of the universe. Dhorak’s quest went well beyond revenge— it bordered on jihad. The importance of their own mission would be irrelevant to him. Vera considered tranqing him and carrying him out after they finished their mission. Her crew had enough difficulty keeping up with her even without having to babysit an injured and stubborn stranger looking for sacred justice. Still, if everything went pear-shaped and they had to fight their way out, an extra set of hands on their side wasn’t such a bad thing.

 _Why can’t it ever be simple?_ She was starting to envy the other Rangers who worked alone.

She locked eyes with him, “You follow our lead, you do what we say, and you do not touch Brontran until we are done with him. I have a mission to finish. We saved you. You owe us that much, at least.”

He didn’t look happy, but he nodded, “Understand. Owe you blood debt. Will follow.”

Dhorak picked up one of the clubs propped up against the table, then took up a trailing position behind Flowers. Jolly stood next to the door to the northern building, ready to cover Vera as she went through. The old door opened outward with a faint creaking of the hinges.

The spacious living area possessed four distinct sections— dining table and chairs to the right of the door, and an open space with wooden flooring to the left that could have served as a small dance floor or fighting arena. Further toward the back of the room stood a bar and kitchenette on the right side, and a comfortable looking seating area on the left. All of the furniture was simple and solidly built. A closed door in the middle of the far wall blocked the way further into the building.

The simple, mechanical lock on the door surprised Vera. In a world that relied so heavily on electronics, she didn’t even carry a set of lock picks. It took her some time to improvise some from things she found in the kitchenette. Picking the lock itself was slow, unfamiliar work. It was also difficult to do quietly.

When the lock finally let go, she cracked the door open far enough to peek in. A soft light glowed out of an open doorway in the middle of the left-hand wall. Vera could just make out a large bed, and a couple of nightstands against the back wall. She paused to listen for any signs of danger. Quiet snoring came from the bed.

She pointed at Dhorak and Jolly, and motioned for them to watch the way they’d come in. Jolly moved over to take cover behind the end of the bar, while Dhorak stood just to the left of the door where his club would do the most good. Vera turned and opened the door the rest of the way, collapsed denn'bok in her off hand in case she needed it.

Cautiously, she worked her way towards the other open doorway. As she approached, Vera could just make out a large form sprawled out under the covers of the bed. The open door led to a bathroom with a night light. It seemed unlikely for there to be anyone hiding in there. As she peered in, she heard a quiet gasp from the floor in the corner of the room between the bed and the wall.

She snapped open her denn’bok and stepped over to cover whoever was there, hoping they didn’t have some kind of pistol at the ready. She discovered two women, also Hurr like Brontran, huddled together against the back wall. One had her hand covering her mouth, probably the one who had gasped. They both watched her with wide eyes, all three sets of nostrils flaring in terror, but made no attempt to warn Brontran or call for help. Vera held her index finger over her mouth. She didn’t know anything about Hurr culture, and had no idea if they’d understand the gesture. However, it was all she could think of at the time. While they didn’t respond, they did keep quiet.

 She slowly made her way around the bed toward the far corner. The device on the nightstand included a manual switch for the lights. She looked back to see Flowers standing in the middle of the doorway, holding a PPG and ready to cut off any attempt at escape.

Vera flipped on the lights, then quickly brought the staff up to a ready position. Flowers raised her PPG to cover the bed. Running on nervous energy, Vera had half expected Brontran to immediately leap out of bed, weapon at the ready, and start blasting away at them. Instead, Brontran just lay there, oblivious and snoring. She leaned over to poke him with the end of her staff when something on the wall caught her attention. A large eye bolt protruded at shoulder height, with two thick, braided leather ropes attached to it. Both ropes lead over to the far corner where the two women hid.

Apprehension building, she slowly walked back around to where the women lay. The ropes were indeed attached to slave collars on each them. It looked like the rope left just enough slack for them to reach the bathroom or bed, but not enough to leave the room. Now that she could see them clearly, she could tell they were both naked, covered only in layers of bruises. She stared, frozen for a moment, as apprehension turned to anger.

Stealth forgotten, Vera jerked the sheet off of Brontran. She brought her denn’bok down onto his stomach with a meaty thwack. He jerked upright with a wheeze, looking around bewildered. “Wha—”

His question cut off as Vera brought the end of the staff up under his jaw and forced his head back against the wall. “We’re here for the Seed, Brontran, the big black egg Nathan just gave you. Tell us where it is, and you might even get out of this alive.”

Anger flashed in Brontran’s eyes as he recognized Vera, “I don’t—”

“Let’s save some time, and skip a few steps, shall we?” She glanced back towards the door to the living area. “Flowers?”

Brontran nervously eyed the Pak’Ma’Ra as she advanced on him, but after a moment she just shook her head sadly, “Apologies. Mind is too strange. I am too tired.”

“I guess we have to do this the old fashioned way, then. Go get Dhorak.”

Flowers shuffled off, and a moment later the small Drazi entered the room looking viciously eager, “My turn?”

“Almost. He needs to answer some questions first.” Vera turned back to Brontran, “Here’s an easy one for you, where’s the keys to those collars?”

Brontran pointed to a dresser near the door, “Top drawer.”

Vera dug around until she found them. She also found a PPG in a holster with spare caps, which she handed to Dhorak as she walked past him. She kneeled beside one of the slaves, and gently pulled the collar around until she could reach the lock, “Don’t worry.“ She tried to sound reassuring. “It’s going to be okay.”

Neither woman moved at all, frozen as still as frightened deer. Once she had removed both collars, she stood up and put one of them on Brontran, knotting the rope around the headboard so he only had enough slack to sit up straight in the bed. Then she pulled one of the pillows out from behind him and held it over his face, “Dhorak, give him some incentive to talk to us.”

Without any hesitation, the Drazi brought his club down on Brontran’s right shin. The bone made a sickening crack as it fractured, followed by a muffled scream from beneath the pillow. When she removed it, she could see the hopeless terror of a dethroned bully in his face. This man was not used to being powerless and was unprepared to deal with it. As pathetic as he looked, it only made his abuse of others even more offensive to her.

“This Drazi seems quite eager to thank you for the warm welcome you gave him when he arrived.” She leaned in closer to him. “If we don’t get the Seed, we’ll just leave him here with you while we go looking for it ourselves.”

All six of the nostrils in his pig-like snout flared. “Idiot woman, what do you think happens to me when I give it to you? You think this Nathan will forgive that?”

Vera sneered. “Look at it this way, Brontran, at least helping us gives you a chance to run. You don’t help us, and you never even make it out of this room.”

Brontran closed his eyes and grimaced, then pointed to an empty section of wall in the Southwest corner of the room. “There. It’s in there.”

“Dhorak, if he moves, break something more important.”

Vera dropped the pillow on the bed and walked over to the section of wall he had indicated. Close inspection revealed a thin, vertical seam where two wall panels came together. She pushed on the section of wall with no results, then turned back towards Brontran. “Well?”

“Behind the dresser.” His voice shook. Brontran looked pale, and he had begun to pant. Vera supposed the broken leg was sending him into shock. They weren’t going to be able to get coherent answers from him for much longer.

She fumbled behind the dresser until her hand found the hidden switch. The section of wall before her popped inward, then slid to one side, revealing a closet-sized room. A small desk with a comm station hid inside along with a filing cabinet and a small safe with an electronic lock.

Vera put away her denn’bok and brought out her electronic tools. The lock on the safe was an ancient keypad-style relic that took her less than 3 minutes to crack. Inside she found a stack of credit chits, a case of data crystals, and another of the large obsidian eggs. This one was a twin to the one they had found in the wreck of Jolly’s ship. She dumped everything into a satchel, careful not to touch the Seed with her bare hands.

Almost as an afterthought, she sat down in front of the comm station and brought up a command line. It was shameful how poorly secured all of Brontran’s systems were. She could have easily broken through this security even before her Ranger training. The system had nearly a month of recordings and comm logs saved, which she copied to a data crystal for later study. They’d already wasted far too much time on other distractions. The longer they stayed, the more likely they would be discovered.

Vera returned to the bedroom and leaned her head through the doorway into the living room. “Jolly, Flowers, get in here.”

Jolly brought himself up short when he saw the two bruised Hurr women still huddled together in the corner. “Th’ fuck?”

“Later.” She handed Flowers the satchel, then walked over to kneel in front of the women. Vera did her best to sound gentle and reassuring, “It’s going to be okay. We’re not going to hurt you. My name’s Vera. What’s yours?”

The one on her right hung her head, hiding her face in her dark hair, and responded barely above a whisper, “Shellithe. This is Mwurreln.”

“Where are your clothes, honey? We’re going to take you somewhere safe.”

Shellithe stumbled over her words as though unused to speaking, “Br—Brontran said it was a w—waste of money to… to buy clothes for women. I’m sorry.” She flinched as though she expected to be struck.

“It’s okay.” Vera tried to make calming motions with her hands. “That’s okay. We’ll find you something.” She stood and turned towards the others. “Jolly, Flowers, find them something to wear. Dhorak, tie down Brontran. I don’t want him going anywhere when we leave.”

“Oh, I make sure of that,” Dhorak mumbled as he used the other leather rope to tie Brontran’s hands and remaining good leg together.

Jolly found a couple of Brontran’s shirts that were large enough to pass for makeshift dresses and passed them over to Vera, who helped the women into them. They stood hesitantly, repeatedly looking over at Brontran as though they expected him to start yelling. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he ground his teeth against the pain of his broken leg. The slaves were the last thing on his mind right now. After repeated reassurance, she managed to coax them out of the corner and into the living room. The rest of the group joined her a moment later.

Vera stood between them and put a protective arm around each. “Okay, time to go. Jolly, take point.”

Jolly opened the door and moved outside, revolver at the ready. As Vera moved the Hurr women towards the door, she heard bottles clink behind her, and turned her head to catch Dhorak marching back into the bedroom with a liquor bottle in one hand and a PPG in the other.

“My turn now.” Dhorak muttered as he went inside.

“Dhorak, what are you—” The bottle smashed against the wall over the bed. “Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!”

The situation was already an over-complicated mess, now it spiraled out of control towards utter disaster. Her good intentions had distracted her from the mission. Now she had more problems to deal with than she could juggle at once. Jolly was already too far ahead to do anything to stop the Drazi, and Flowers needed all of her remaining energy to cover them in a firefight. There was just no time. Not even an abusive, misogynistic bastard like Brontran deserved to burn to death. She hated to leave him to die like that, but the innocent women beside her were far more important to save.

As she tried her best to hurry the women through the door, she heard Brontran’s pleading. There were two shots from a PPG, and a bright orange glow quickly filled the room along with black, acrid smoke. The sounds of Brontran’s screams were loud enough to be heard throughout the entire warehouse. Dhorak came striding out of the room with a grim smile on his face. “ _Now_ can leave.”

There was no time to yell at Dhorak about it now. They had to get out of there as quickly as they could. The two slaves had both started sobbing, and Vera had her hands full trying to steer them towards the cargo containers so they would have some kind of cover. They were almost halfway there when the door to the southern building burst open, and a disheveled human with a PPG rifle stumbled out glancing around in confusion. “Th’ hell is going on out here?”

Dhorak scrambled to put the dumpster between him and the rifle. Flowers trundled as quickly as her awkward form could move around the corner of the southern building. Jolly turned and backtracked towards the trouble, using the nearby rows of shelving as cover.

Vera yelled, “Move!” and pushed the women towards the cargo containers. She couldn’t get into the fight until they were out of the line of fire.

The scruffy-looking thug raised his rifle. “Hey! _Hey!_ ”

Dhorak put his hands against the dumpster and shoved. It’s metal feet made a harsh screeching noise against the concrete floor. The man fired a burst toward him, but the dumpster easily blocked the shots, super-heated bolts of plasma searing off the paint and making the metal start to glow faintly in places. Momentum building, Dhorak kept pushing until the dumpster slammed into the man, pinning him against the open door. The man let out a grunt. His rifle tumbled out of his hands and landed on the top of the dumpster’s lid.

The sudden appearance of a dumpster in the doorway caught a second thug completely off guard. He ran full-speed into its side, folding over at the waist and letting out a surprised ‘whoof’ as the air rushed out of him. The first man shouted expletives and frantically tried to push the dumpster away from him as the heated metal singed his legs.

Dhorak rushed forward and grabbed the barrel of the second thug’s rifle as he tried to stand up, yanking the barrel upwards and away from him. Dhorak did a double take as he glanced at the Drazi-made rifle. “This mine!”

As the thug tried to pull the rifle away from him, Dhorak wrapped his other hand around the stock and used both hands to turn the rifle sideways and ram it into the thug’s face, stunning him and making him loose his grip on the weapon. Dhorak fell backwards to the floor clutching his rifle, his face radiant with triumph.

Jolly came around the corner of the last row of shelves just as the first man recovered his rifle and tried to turn it on Dhorak. Jolly grimaced and raised his revolver. “Ah, fuck it!”

Deafening thunder echoed through the warehouse, and Jolly stumbled backwards, his tiny frame almost too light to withstand the kick from the monstrous pistol. The blast tore through the man’s skull and blew out a large hole in the steel door behind him. His body sagged forward onto the dumpster, leaking chunky crimson.

They heard the other thug’s shouts from inside the building. “Great scragin’ Maker’s balls!” The voice faded to the sound of scrambling feet. A door slammed somewhere within.

“Whoo! Thunder!” Dhorak pumped his rifle up and down, shouting with glee and grinning at Jolly. “Mini Drazi can fight!”

“Move it, dumbass, or we’re leaving you here!” Jolly said, then turned and scrambled as fast as his short legs could carry him.

The two of them caught up with Vera and Flowers on the other side of the shipping containers. The Hurr women were trembling but still on their feet. Vera put a hand on her needler when she saw Jolly come into view. “That all of them?”

 Jolly huffed and puffed as he skittered to a halt, obviously not used to exerting himself in normal gravity. “At least… one still alive. No idea… how many still there. Won’t be long before they come after us… and we don’t exactly have a ride waiting. Any ideas?”

Dhorak glanced around, then grinned as his gaze found the corner of the building where all the maintenance equipment sat. “Idea.” He dashed off before anyone could argue.

“After his last good idea, I don’t think I want to know.” Vera guided the other women around the cargo transport toward the front door.

As they made their way out of the building, Vera got a glimpse of Dhorak standing next to the valve assembly on a large pressure tank. He raised a sledge hammer over his head. Vera had never seen a fuel-air bomb go off in person, and had no desire to now, either. “Around the next building! Go! Go! Go!”

Everyone broke into a dead run, even the Hurr women needed no more prodding. A few moments later, Dhorak outpaced Jolly and Flowers. An enormous grin radiated from his bruised and bloody face. The entire group made it safely around the corner and slowed to a fast walk. They continued to put as much of the sturdy factory walls between themselves and the warehouse as they could. When they made it all the way to the next intersection, Vera started to wonder if the fire had been put out.

Vera spotted a taxi heading toward them and left the rest to catch their breath. She stood in the middle of the road flagging it down. The vehicle wavered as it approached. The driver considered trying to go around them, but gave up when it became obvious Vera was just going to move to intercept him. As soon as the taxi came to a stop, everyone piled in. The harried Wychad turned to protest about the number of people overcrowding his vehicle, but Jolly cut him off before he could say anything.

“Hundred credit tip if you can get us to Centauri Tower without speaking.” An earth-shattering explosion rocked the vehicle. Vera felt heat on the side of her face even through the window as a mushroom cloud of flame and smoke billowed into the sky. Without missing a beat, Jolly continued, “Quickly would be good.”

The driver gave a resigned sigh as he turned back to the controls. The vehicle accelerated towards the main roads and was gone long before the sirens of emergency vehicles could be heard approaching the blazing remains of Brontran’s warehouse.


	5. Chapter 5

The motley group tumbled out of the overcrowded taxi like a clown car. The comparison felt a little too close to home for Vera after the near-debacle at the warehouse. To the Rangers, a successful mission went beyond simply achieving the goal. No one should ever know a mission had taken place at all— no bodies, no evidence, no traces of any kind. The weight of the satchel on Vera’s shoulder felt more like consolation prize than victory. She did not look forward to making her report on the mission. She could already see her masters shaking their heads in disappointment.

She turned to regard her new charges. Dhorak’s eyes scanned his surroundings, darting from shadow to window to doorway. He held his rifle as though he expected to have to use it at any moment. The Hurr women stood slightly apart from the rest of the group. They ignored their surroundings, instead closely watching Vera. The pressure of their quiet stares unnerved her. She had no idea what to do with these women now that they were safely away from their captor.

Vera said, “So, Dhorak… I guess you’ll want to go check on your nephew. Tell him the good news.”

He puffed up and raised his chin. “No. Nephew strong. Does not need me. In-shala satisfied. Owe you life debt. Stay until your lives saved.”

“I don’t know.” Vera shook her head, hoping to find a way out of this. “I appreciate it. I really do, but there’s not all that much room on our ship. We can’t really afford to add someone to our crew that doesn’t fill a necessary job.”

Dhorak raised his weapon presenting it to her as though for inspection. “You good at finding trouble. You need protection. Am great hunter. Can shoot. Can fight. Can hide. Know medicine. Know nature. Can heal, medbay or jungle.” He lifted his face to the sky. “Droshala witness. Your fight is my fight. Your pain is my pain. Your blood is my blood.”

The ritual finality of his oath left no room to argue. She was stuck with his help whether she wanted it or not. The adrenaline of their late night raid had worn off, leaving no energy with which to argue. “Alright, but if you stay, you’d better follow our lead. No more killing. No more explosions. You don’t start fights, and you only end them when we say to. We’re xenoarchaeologists, not a mercenary company. Agreed?”

Dhorak nodded. “Agreed. You in charge. Follow your orders.”

Vera tried to console herself with the idea he at least had useful skills. Still, she fully expected his company to be troublesome at best. _This just keeps getting better and better._

She couldn’t think of anything to say to the two women. Instead, she led the group along the now-familiar path underground.

The room where they had met with Burell had been stripped bare. Curtains, torches, even the furniture was gone. A single rough wooden table stood in the middle of the bare concrete room. On it sat two rectangular boxes. One lay empty, the other contained the first black seed they had found. They were a dark rust color with small black metallic flakes glittering on their textured surfaces. The lid of the empty box sat next to it. Dark gray padding lined the interior, perfectly shaped to support their mysterious treasure.

Vera inverted the satchel containing the seed so it would land inside the box, careful to keep the canvas of the bag between her hands and its smooth, black surface. The moment it settled in the padding, words appeared above her in glowing amber letters. Vera jerked backwards, startled.

The message floated in the air above the container, motes of gold floating upward from the letters like sparks from a camp fire. It read:

**_You have a bad habit of picking up strays. It’s going to get you into trouble one of these days._ **

**_It takes more than removing a collar to free a slave. Unless you plan to open a women’s shelter, I suggest you drop them off at the nearest hospital where they can request asylum._ **

**_I have seen to it the authorities believe the explosion to be an unfortunate accident. If you intend to adopt the Drazi, keep him on a shorter leash._ **

**_Nevertheless, you have done your part. Tap the back of the scarab when you wish to access what you have earned. Good luck in your search for Nathan._ **

**_You’re going to need it._ **

The words evaporated in a shower of sparks as soon as they’d finished reading, leaving them in darkness.

Jolly snorted. “She’s showin off again.”

Flowers pulled a flashlight out of her robes. When she switched it on, the beam illuminated Dhorak’s face gaping at the empty air where the fiery words had been. “What— How— ?” He sputtered.

Jolly said, “Techno-mages. You get used to it… Bah, who am I kidding? No, you don’t.” He rolled his eyes and left the room.

Dhorak looked at Vera. “You work for techno-mages?”

“Not so much work for as traded a favor for a favor.”

Dhorak’s narrowed eyes watched her as he strode out of the room. He mumbled to himself, “Simple archaeologists my shedding purple scales.”

Vera and Flowers each picked up one of the containers, then followed the others out.

*****

The next day, over a late brunch, Vera sat in her hotel room reviewing the data she had collected from Brontran. Among the comm logs and messages she found a chain with a laboratory manager on Beta 9. They referred to shipments of ‘lab supplies’ Brontran was supposed to provide to XenoCorp Medical Lab 11. Vera had never heard of XenoCorp before.

After half an hour of struggling to obtain a relay channel to Earth Alliance data nets without having to rob a bank to pay for it, she found herself wishing for a unified communication and data exchange standard. The thing she missed most about living in EA space— after fresh apple pastries, of course— was easy wireless communication with planetary data networks. Every race’s territory used a different standard and imposed different restrictions on its use. She didn’t hold out much hope of that changing any time soon.

Instead, she packaged all of the relevant information she’d found, along with a request for further research, into a heavily encrypted file. She encoded it into a large image file of some random vacationing couple she kept on her data pad for exactly this purpose. She composed a message about the wonderful vacation she was having and sent it, along with the attached image file, to Uncle Bob. All her contacts for Ranger drop points were called Uncle Bob. This one lived in the Deneb system in EA space. He’d have a much easier time investigating XenoCorp from there.

Her obligations finished for the moment, Vera checked in on her friends. She found Waldo sitting in his room with the scarab necklace on his open palm. Above it hovered a translucent image of a book. His face had a hopeless look about it as he aimlessly flipped pages with his other hand.

“Uh, oh. Why aren’t you happy?”

Waldo tapped the scarab and the book vanished. “Have you looked at our ‘payment’ yet?”

“No. All I wanted to do when we got back was sleep. I figured you’d be up all night reading and want to spend all day today giving us a dissertation about it. I wanted to recover my strength first.”

“Funny.” He tossed the scarab to her. “Go on, have a look for yourself.”

Vera tapped the back of the scarab and the book reappeared. It flipped itself open to reveal the first page. She moved her free hand over the page. The book had no physical presence, but it responded to the same motions as a real book would. She flipped through the first few pages. Cramped columns of runes crowded each page. “What language is this?”

“No fucking clue. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. With no context or hint on its origin, it could take me decades to translate it. Maybe not even then. Even better, I tried to scan some of the pages so that I could run automated searches on the university data nets. The camera wouldn’t focus on it, everything’s either blur or static. I tried the one in the room comm unit. Same thing. I’m going to have to copy the whole damn thing by hand before I can even start using any of my usual tools. Your techno-mage friend has one hell of a sadistic sense of humor.”

Of course it had been too easy for such a big payoff. Vera frowned and deactivated the projection. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. At least you’ll have something to do between stops?” She offered him a weak smile.

Waldo rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ve always admired Sisyphus for his career choice. Exactly what I’ve always wished for— a hopeless cause to endlessly labor over.”

Vera moved on before Waldo could find anything else to complain about. Flowers wouldn’t be back from the Pak’Ma’Ra community until later that evening, and she had no desire to deal with Dhorak yet.

She found Jolly lurking in a corner booth at the downstairs bar. Cowboy hat mashed low over his brow hiding his face, he nursed a large glass of scotch.

She flopped down on the bench seat across from him. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

He looked up and gave her a big grin. “Nope!”

“How are you holding up?”

“Five by five! Why would I be anything else?” He raised his glass to her, and took a drink.

“Because you killed a man last night. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The grin fell from his face, leaving a hollow look in his eyes. He looked down at the lone ice cube floating in his glass. “Not my proudest moment.” He finished off his drink. “Never gets any easier. Splashing another ship in a dogfight is one thing, but… seeing the other guy’s face… hard thing to let go of, ya know?”

It relieved her to know taking a life was no small matter to him. The Rangers would never tolerate her associating with casual murders, and neither would she. She didn’t enjoy his regret, but it reassured her, nevertheless. “You didn’t have much choice. If it’s any consolation, you probably saved our lives.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’m a real hero,” he said in a flat voice. “Absolute badass.”

Vera wanted to say something to make him feel better, but she was at a loss. Feeling compassion came easy to her, but knowing what to do about it often did not. She stood up and hesitated, finally putting her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t load up on that stuff, we’ll be leaving as soon as I get new orders.”

She made her way back to her room, mentally squirming over her useless comment. _And this is why I stick with computers. At least I know how to make those better._

That evening, she received a response from Uncle Bob. The coded message instructed her to make her way to Beta 9. They would have a contact with further orders set up by the time she arrived. Thankfully, the message did not include any comments on her previous mission. At least she hadn’t screwed up badly enough to be pulled from the field.

The next mission would be different. She’d make sure this one went exactly as it should. She told the rest of her crew to pack fast. They had work do to.


End file.
